THE PORTUGUESE SIBYL
ANTÓNIO ARAÚJO
Words
DOMINIQUE PROVOST / HUGO MAERTENS
Photography
She lived nine human lives, each lasting 110 years. Nigh on a thousand years. Virgil, Ovid and Petronius sang about her. Botticelli and Raphael, among many others, painted her. Michelangelo found space for her on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, alongside two angels and two prophetic books, the legendary Sibylline Books, which she sold to Lucius Tarquinius Superbus (commonly known as Tarquin the Proud), later to be deposited in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, only consulted on special occasions. She was known as Sibyl of Cumae, as she spent most of her life in the ancient Greek colony of the same name, which was situated on the coast of Campania, near Naples. Today, in the Cumae Archaeological Park, it is possible to visit the grotto or cave that served as her sanctuary, the gateway between this land and the damned hells.
That said, in the Mystic Lamb artwork painted by the brothers Hubert and Jan Van Eyck between 1430 and 1432, the sibyl — the Sibyl of Cumae — is Portuguese or, more accurately, has the face and forms of Isabel of Portugal, the only daughter of King João I of Portugal and Philippa of Lancaster, and sister of the princes of the Illustrious Generation: Dom Duarte, Dom Pedro, Henrique the Navigator, Dom João and Dom Fernando, who died in captivity in Fez in 1443.
Isabel was born in Évora in 1397 but spent her childhood and youth at court in Lisbon and at the palace in Sintra, where she received a thorough education. In 1415, Henry V of England, her first cousin, asked for her hand in marriage, although nothing came of it. In 1428, King João I, her father, received another marriage proposal, this time from the Duchy of Burgundy, from Philip III the Good of the House of Valois.
Filipe was married twice and widowed twice. His marriage to a Portuguese princess, who was already in her thirties, was described as an ‘act of desperation’ because, despite having fathered 26 illegitimate children, his first two wives, Michelle of France and Bonne d’Artois, had not given him an heir.
Nevertheless, and most importantly, his marriage to Isabel of Portugal, daughter of Philippa of Lancaster (and, therefore, granddaughter of John of Ghent, 1st Duke of Lancaster), was part of a politicaldiplomatic strategy of alliance between Burgundy and England against the Dauphin of France, upon whose orders Philip’s father, John the Fearless, had been stabbed to death. It was not by chance that the English cardinal, Henry Beaufort, brother of Philip of Lancaster and uncle of the bride, played a leading role in arranging Isabel’s marriage to Philip of Burgundy.
In 1428, a Burgundian delegation travelled to Portugal under the command of João, lord of Roubaix and Erzelles, to offer the marriage proposal. In January of the following year, new Flemish ambassadors made their way to the Iberian Peninsula and were warmly received in Avis, the seat of the Portuguese dynasty, to finalise terms of the agreement.
The Flemish delegation included a painter from the Ducal court, Jan Van Eyck, who was responsible for, among other things, ‘paindre bien au vif la figure da madite dame l’infante Elizabeth’, in other words, fashioning a portrait of the princess for her betrothed to see. That said, Van Eyek’s role went beyond that, and it is quite possible that he contributed to the success of that delicate diplomatic mission, with its reserved, perhaps secretive contours, as demonstrated by the cryptic nature of the painter’s expenses, detailed in ledgers as ‘some distant trips to foreign countries’ (Philip the Good’s appreciation of him was, in fact, shown on various occasions, both in words and deeds; for example, the duke sponsored his children, authorised him to work for third parties, despite serving the Ducal court, gave him permission to paint the Mystic Lamb at the Vijdt couple’s expense and, finally, donated an important sum to Van Eyck’s wife, when she was widowed in 1441).
After a month of negotiations, which was enough time for Jan Van Eyck to complete the portrait (or portraits, as everything suggests that two canvases were painted, one that would travel by sea, with the princess, and the other by land), four Flemish messengers were sent to Burgundy in February 1429 with the painting. On the Portuguese side, negotiations had been started by Dom Duarte and his brothers, as King João I was busy with other matters of the realm. In June, the messenger Pierre de Vaudrey travelled to Portugal, finalising the agreement.
In fewer than two weeks, the contract was drawn up in the town of Sintra, with the deed ratified in the presence of a public notary on 24th July 1429. In this contract, Philip addressed King João I in unusually respectful terms, calling him ‘most illustrious, most victorious and most powerful’, probably due to the Portuguese king’s reputation throughout Europe, which had been acquired after his triumph in Morocco and the conquest of Ceuta. The bride to be, Dona Isabel, is called ‘most illustrious, distinguished and most noble princess’, a sign of the status she had acquired at court, be it because of her maturity, be it because she began to exercise the functions of a queen after the death of her mother, Dona Filipa, in 1415.
In return, the Portuguese monarch was prepared to pay a sizeable dowry of 154,000 gold crowns, which was to be paid in considerable instalments. One curious detail, which demonstrates the care taken in the deal, possible currency devaluations were safeguarded, with 100,000 crowns deposited immediately with the money exchangers of Bruges, who undertook to deliver them to the Duke of Burgundy as soon as the marriage took place. The Portuguese king was also responsible for all the bride’s expenses regarding dresses and jewellery, not to mention the cost of her journey to Flanders and her stay there until the wedding day, which would take place no later than two months after the princess disembarked at the port of L’Écluse. The Florentine merchants acted as witnesses.
Once the contract had been signed on Saturday 24th July 1429, the following day, Sunday 25th, in the presence of King João I, Dom Duarte and his wife, the infantas Dom Henrique, Dom João and Dom Fernando, many prelates, knights, squires, nobles and burghers, the marriage of Isabel of Portugal to Philip the Good of Burgundy was celebrated by proxy. Three days of feasting followed, with banquets and tournaments, and at the end of September, after having attended a solemn mass in Lisbon’s Sé Cathedral, Isabel set off on a difficult journey by ship to northern Europe.
The wedding celebrations began on 7th January 1430, in L’Écluse (Sluis) and on the 10th of that month, the last day of the festivities, Philip the Good announced the creation of the Golden Fleece, which became one of the most legendary and most coveted chivalric order in the world. The Order’s motto — ‘Aultre n’auray’ (‘I will never have another’), appeared to be a manifestation of Philip the Good’s marital fidelity, to which Isabel of Portugal responded with irony, choosing for her motto ‘Tant que je vive’ — ‘as long as I live’...
Painted in the Alentejo region, in Avis, Van Eyck’s portrait was lost, however a few copies remain. One is in ink from the 17th century, considered ‘crude’, and is kept in the Torre do Tombo national archive in Lisbon. On the border, there is an inscription in French: ‘C’est la pourtraiture qui fu envoiée a Philippe duc de Bourgogne et de Brabant, de Dame Isabel, fille de roi Jean de Portugal et d’Algarbe, seigneur de Septe par lui conquise, qui fu depuis femme et épouse de dessus dit duc Philippe.’
Some dispute this idea, saying that from the portrait of Isabel painted in Avis, Jan Van Eyck only used the garments for the figure of the Sibyl of Cumae, in the Mystic Lamb altarpiece. Some maintain that, in the Mystic Lamb, that which was thought to be the Sibyl of Cumae is actually the Sibyl of Erythrae (from Eretria, in ancient Greek Ionia, now Turkey), and vice versa; or, a less likely hypothesis, that the Portuguese princess is depicted as the Sibyl of Erythrae, and not as the Sibyl of Cumae (to complicate matters, there is a portrait of Isabel of Portugal, painted by Rogier van der Weyden circa 1450, today in the Getty Centre in Los Angeles, which reads, it is believed that it was added later, ‘PERSICA SYBILLA Iª’).
Regardless, the physical and sartorial similarities between the portrait created in Avis and the Sibyl of the Mystic Lamb are so many and so blatant that we can be quite sure that it is Isabel portrayed in the famous Ghent polyptych.
That said, there is one difference, and it is not small in stature. In the Mystic Lamb, the sibyl-princess has her hand on her belly, a clear indication that she is expecting. This is possibly an allusion à clef to the much-desired motherhood of Isabel, who twice became pregnant and was a mother while the altarpiece was being painted. It was shown to the public for the first time on 6th May 1432, the feast of St John the Baptist, in the then Church of St John the Baptist of Ghent, now St Bavo’s Cathedral. That day was reserved for the baptism of Philip and Isabel’s long-awaited son, Prince Joos of Burgundy, who was born in that city a few days earlier, on 24th April. Joos died a few months later, on 21st August, just like the couple’s first son, Antoine, who was born in Brussels in December 1430 and died in February 1432. It wasn’t until later, in 1433, that Isabella gave birth to a son who survived, and whom history would celebrate as Charles the Bold.
In addition to her remarkable political and diplomatic work, which still impresses historians today, the Portuguese princess’s legacy also includes two songs entitled “Portugaler” or “La Portingaloise”, 15th-century compositions that have survived to this day and which, according to some, were composed on the occasion of the marriage between Isabel and Philip or were a special favourite of the Portuguese princess.
Boasting impressive dimensions (5.2 by 3.75 metres), The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, also known as the Ghent Altarpiece, is a polyptych made up of 12 separate panels, painted on both sides, interior and exterior, using a scheme that favoured spectacular scenography and choreography. The altarpiece was only to be opened on Sundays and feast days. The rest of the time, it remained closed, with churchgoers only able to see the rear, which was more prophetic and darker. On holy days and festive occasions, Christ would appear to believers in all his splendour, like the Mystical Lamb in a green, bright, radiant meadow, marked by the Fountain of Life, human figures and exotic plant species never before seen in Flanders.
The Sibyl of Cumae is at the rear of the polyptych (e.g., on the outside, with the altarpiece closed), occupying the top position, next to another sibyl, the Sibyl of Erythrae. She is accompanied by a floating ribbon or ‘banderole’ with the inscription ‘REX ALT. ADVENIET PER SAECLA FUTURUS SCILICET CARNE‘ (’The Highest King shall come and shall be in the flesh through the ages”), a clear omen of the coming of Christ, but also, according to some, the political message that the birth of Philip and Isabel’s heir would guarantee the independence of the Duchy of Burgundy in its conflict with France. Embroidered on her dress, on her chest, the Sibyl also bears the words ‘MEIAPAROS’, where the anagram ‘DAME ISA POR’, alluding to Lady Isabel of Portugal, has been suggested, without much support. It is more likely a contraction of the words ‘PRIMAEIA PARTHENOS’ (‘Daughter of Priam, virgin’).
One thing is sure, along with the institution of the Order of the Golden Fleece, the altarpiece proved a valuable tool for projecting Philip the Good and his wife’s power. Symptomatically, when Philip made his ceremonial entry into Ghent in 1458, a tableau vivant of the Mystic Lamb was staged in the city, to be followed by others throughout the Netherlands. Over the years to come, the altarpiece was visited by the humanist Hieronymus Münzer in 1495, by Antonio de Beatis, secretary to Cardinal Luigi d’Aragona, in 1517, and in 1521 by Albrecht Dürer, who called it ‘the most beautiful painting in Christendom’. King Philip II of Spain wanted it so badly that those in charge of St Bavo’s Church commissioned a copy from the painter Michiel Coxcie, whose central panel is now on display at the Staatliche Museen in Berlin.
Much like the creation of the Order of the Golden Fleece, in which the mythological story of Jason and the Argonauts was adapted to identify it with that of the biblical Gideon, the Sibyl of Cumae underwent a process of Christian appropriation based on a passage from Virgil’s Ecclogues, in which she became considered a prophetess of Christ the Saviour’s birth. So, we see her in the Ingeborg Psalter (= Book of Psalms), from 1210, now kept in the Musée Condé in Chantilly, found on a Jesse Tree, next to the prophets Ezekiel Hezekiah and Aaron. We also see her, as mentioned previously, on the Sistine Chapel ceiling alongside four other sibyls and seven Old Testament prophets, forming a group of 12 figures who augur and announce Jesus’s birth.
The sibyls’ mobilisation, which was undertaken by Constantine in his message to the First Council of Nicaea in 325, or by Saint Augustine in The City of God, was based on classical texts, such as the Aeneid or the Eclogues and had a clear purpose: to demonstrate that the announcement of Christ’s coming was not limited to the orbit of Judaism and the Old Testament, but rather a universal, perhaps timeless topic.
It is also this prophetic design that animates the composition on the upper part of the Ghent Altarpiece, where, just below the two sibyls, from Cumae and Erythrae - the only ones mentioned by St Augustine in The City of God - and the prophets Micah and Zechariah, we find the Annunciation to Mary, featuring the Archangel Gabriel on one side and the Virgin Mary on the other. At the bottom, in a pious and austere position, we see the couple who sponsored the painting, the powerful merchant and patron Joodocus (or Joos) Vijdt and his wife Lysbette Borluut, and, in the centre, John the Baptist and John the Evangelist. The altarpiece was also intended for the Vijdt Chapel, which Joss had built inside the Church of St John the Baptist. Jan Van Eyck was careful to adapt the tone of the paintings to the place’s different lighting.
Years later, Vasari said that he invented oil painting, which was accepted as true for 300 years. Despite having been disproven, it does not deny that Van Eyck developed original and revolutionary techniques, e.g. to speed up the drying process of the oil, as well as being a master of the sgraffito technique, e.g. on Adam’s pubic hair.
This article does not aim to present or describe the Mystical Lamb by the Van Eyck brothers, one of the greatest works of Western art of all time. Its theological and iconographic depth and complexity are such that it continues to challenge our understanding, inspiring hundreds and hundreds of the most conflicting interpretations and readings. To give the reader an idea, there are books devoted exclusively to the botany of the altarpiece, which includes over 75 species of flowers, herbs and trees. Van Eyck is thought to have come across some of them in Portugal and Spain, when undertaking a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, passing through Astorga, Ávila, Madrid and, most probably, Seville and Granada, where he would have seen the gardens of the Alhambra, before returning to Flanders. Lab analyses of the painting showed that the most exotic plant species - Mediterranean cypresses, palm trees, lemon trees - were added later. Van Eyck also altered the position of the fingers of the angel playing the organ to improve the harmony of the musical composition sung by the celestial creatures.
It’s almost a miracle that the Lamb is with us today, and on display in St Bavo’s Cathedral, while restoration work is underway until 2026. The altarpiece was hidden away and saved from two waves of attacks ordered by iconoclasts, in 1566 and 1578. The latter was at the behest of the Calvinists, the scandalous panels relating to Adam and Eve being removed to Ghent’s town hall. Thanks to the intervention of the donors’ descendants, the Calvinist leader Jan van Hembyze was prevented from offering them to Queen Elizabeth I of England in exchange for military aid.
In 1794, the four side panels were confiscated by French revolutionaries, who took them to Paris, where they remained in the Musée Napoléon until 1815. The following year, following the Battle of Waterloo, the Duke of Wellington ordered them to be returned to Brussels. That same year, 1816, six side panels were bought by the marchand Lambertus Nieuwenhuys, who immediately sold them to the British collector Edward Solly. Frederick William III, King of Prussia, bought them and took them to Berlin, while a fire in St Bavo’s Cathedral forced the removal of the remaining panels, one of which was seriously damaged. In 1861, at great cost, the Belgian state acquired the panels of Adam and Eve and, during the First World War, the centre panels of the Mystic Lamb were separated and hidden from the Germans in two secret locations in Ghent. To have some notion of the symbolic value and mythical status that the artwork had acquired at that time, it is worth remembering that, among other humiliations imposed on defeated Germany, as war reparations, the Treaty of Versailles contained a clause requiring the return of the six side panels bought by William of Prussia to Belgium in 1821.
In 1921, finally complete, the piece was inaugurated with great pomp and circumstance. That said, such lavish attention did not prevent two panels being stolen shortly afterwards (Just Judges and Saint John the Baptist). The latter was found in a left luggage depot at the Gare du Nord in Brussels, while the other was lost forever (what we see today in St Bavo’s Cathedral is a copy made in 1939 by Jef Van der Veken, restorer of Brussels museums).
On 11th May 1940, one day after the Nazis invaded Belgium, the Mystic Lamb was transferred to the crypt of St Bavo’s Cathedral and, shortly afterwards, sent to Pau in France. Although the city was not in the occupied zone, a secret agreement between Pétain and Hitler deemed the Treaty of Versailles revoked and, as a result, the Vichy regime ordered the altarpiece to be delivered to the Germans, who took it to the famous Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria.
With the advance of the Allies, the Nazis decided to hide the altarpiece and other treasures in a salt mine in Altaussee, near Salzburg. Had it not been for the intervention of the local population and some German soldiers, the abominable order from Berlin to dynamite this unique, fabulous collection would have gone ahead. The ill-gotten stash was eventually discovered on 8th May 1945 by the ‘Monuments Men’ of the Third US Army.
The Americans handed the polyptych over to the Prince Regent of Belgium in September of that year and, two months later, it was returned to St Bavo’s Cathedral, where it rests today, hopefully for good - and in peace, for now.
The Ghent altarpiece’s travels over the centuries and the covetousness it aroused in Elizabeth I of England, Philip II of Spain, the French of the Revolution, Frederick William of Prussia and Hitler confirm that, as well as being a profoundly devotional work that reflects the Christian vision of world history, the Mystic Lamb is also a political work, where the power and prestige of states and nations, royal houses and republics are played out. This has been the case from the very beginning, when the artwork played a valuable role in Philip of Burgundy’s political affirmation, in a process that culminated in his triumph at the Congress of Arras in 1435. It was here that he changed his position in favour of the French, leaving the English isolated and defeated, at the end of a century-long war (incidentally, Joan of Arc’s death occurred at the same time: Taken prisoner by the Burgundians on 23rd May 1430, and sold to the English, she was executed on 30th May 1431). Naturally, the altarpiece is also an affirmation of the economic strength of the city of Ghent and the Flanders region, as well as the fortune and power of its patrons. These particular patrons were a childless couple that were already at relatively advanced age (Vijd is estimated to have been between 65 and 70 years old, and Van Eyck portrays him thus), who, through generous patronage, bequeathed their name to all posterity. Adding to the political nature of the Van Eyck brothers’ work, it celebrates the announcement of a long-awaited child, in heaven and on earth, a fact witnessed by the presence of saints (e.g. St Agnes with her lamb, Saint Barbara holding a tower, Saint Dorothy carrying a flower basket), knights and clergy, popes and princes of the Church, the expectant crowd gathered around a bleeding lamb, symbol of Jesus Christ.
The polyptych created by the brothers Hubert and Jan Van Eyck, whose work is impossible to distinguish, was created against the backdrop of the Hundred Years’ War, influenced by the crusader spirit used against the infidels that guided the conquest of Ceuta by King John I in 1415 and the creation of the Order of the Golden Fleece by his Burgundian son-in-law. Later, the Lamb witnessed religious wars that devoured the heart of Europe - and almost consumed them and by the iconoclastic fury (Beeldenstorm) that devastated the Netherlands in the 16th century. It also saw the upheavals of post-revolutionary and Napoleonic France, the outcome of the First World War and the madness of Adolf Hitler.
In the midst of all this, with the serene wisdom typical of sibyls, was Isabel, the Portuguese princess that Jan Van Eyck had painted in Avis, in the Alentejo, so that her betrothed could see her. He then painted her pregnant, like Sibyl of Cumae, on the outskirts of Naples, in a masterpiece that narrowly avoided being destroyed in a salt mine in Austria.
Essentially, it is a piece of Europe on 12 wood panels. But also, let us never forget, a piece of Portugal in Europe, or vice versa, in a fragment of memory now scattered around the world, on display in Ghent, Lisbon, Los Angeles…